Reflections
by EmbattledCurve
Summary: With a cigarette between his lips, Snape reflects on how his life might have turned out, had he made different choices. Oneshot. Post HBP.


**Disclaimer:** No infringement of copyrights of any sort is intended. No financial gain is obtained. This is simply fanfiction.

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Snape lifted the burning roll to his mouth and exhaled deeply. The smoke formed little ringlets and he watched it slowly disappear into the atmosphere already congested with pollution. Lifting up the glowing roll, he shrugged. It was just another example of all the choices he had made. 

_Choices_. Now that word could just as easily have been transalated or amended into opportunities. Oh he had had plenty of all those. Well then why was he ruminating, with a cigarette in his hand, one may ask. But then was that not what life was all about. The plethora of choices and opportunities was what distinguished one from another. It was what differentiated the good from the evil, the strong from the weak, the ambitious from the laid-back. It was what differed him from the rest.

Him. He puffed once more on the nicotine-filled cylinder. Ofcourse he was different from the rest. But he would have always been different. It actually had nothing to do with the choices that he had made, but more with the fact that he was not _common_, if you know what I mean. But coming back to the choices that he had made, and there had been plenty of them, he was not so sure how he would have turned out.

Ever since he had graduated from Hogwarts, his life had been chartered for him, mapped out. His destination clearly marked and the obstacles clearly visible. Now he had never once questioned it, for to do so would mean a lot of editing, re-chartering and re-mapping and it was too cumbersome a task to pursue. So once again the question was, why was he doing it now?

He shrugged. The answer would lie somewhere between the normal process of aging and senility. Or maybe the two were inter-related. He really could not tell. It was hard to know where one began and the other ended. But the fact remained that he was now wondering, reflecting and contemplating.

Now if he really had had to make different choices, it would have had to be done when he was still in Hogwarts as a student. He could have started by growing a verterbral column, and not letting Potter and Black get the satisfaction they so craved which was in reality why they picked him to siphon of their frustration. He should have been able to deal with the inadequacies, the complexes and the self-pity that had plagued him. It was all a part of the metamorphasis from boy-hood to adult-hood. He most certainly should not have needed Lily.

_Lily_. Ah, now there was another example of choices. Lily had been an exemplary student, and had eventually been joined in holy matrimony with James Potter. But all that could have changed. Or maybe it would not have. He would never know. He had never had the courage to tell her how he felt. Or was it because he felt it was a sign of weakness. He was'nt sure, but it probably had a lot to do with the inadequacies which instead of slowly and surely disappearing as he was completing the transition into man-hood, only augmented his sense of self-despair. If truth be told, he felt that he was not good enough. And once again, he would then be forced to acknowledge that such a derisive feeling could only come from fear of rejection.

_Rejection_. A very powerful emotion, capable of enhancing all that one tried to repress. Maybe if he had not repressed so much, and in turn buried himself into the Dark Arts, he would have perhaps grown. The Dark Arts beckoned to him, tantalising him with what was forbidden, and promised to fill all his aching desires and give him all he craved. It had lured him, and once he was safely entrapped within it's vice-like grip, there had been no way out, no turning back.

Her death, was what gave him the immense impetus he had needed to break away from the shakles that had bound him, but just when he was lulled into believing that all was well, it had reared it's ugly head again. His grip on the burning cigarette tightened as his thoughts strayed to Dumbledore and the outcome of their final confrontation. Dumbledore had always been the one to sacrifice what it took, and this time it had succeeded in taking _him_, in the constant war against the darkness looming over them.

Idealistic maybe, but he considered it a typical example of Gryffindor bravery to the point of stupidity. But once again, it reflected on choices he, and he alone had made. He had chosen to make the unbreakable vow with Narcissa, and he had chosen to execute it. He could have just as easily bid farewell to it all, the constant fight, struggle and drifted away peacefully.

Whatever it maybe, if truth be told he had no one to blame, but maybe he was seeking redemption, penance. Once again he gazed at the glowing end, mesmerised by the crackling particles within it. He knew it was a vile, filthy and disgusting muggle habit and he ought to kick it. Grimacing, he stubbed it in the ceramic ash tray beside him. The filthy habit, made him lose weight, he thought wryly. Only problem was it was one lung at a time.

He gazed at the face of the almost-man sleeping across him. As the moonlight shone on Draco's face, the outcome of one of his choices was reflected clearly, as though in answer. He had chosen to complete the task that Draco had been unable to finish, for he had wanted to preserve the boy's innocence. And he had succeeded, for now.

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We all wonder about the choices we make, and who or what we would have been had we made them any differently, which was what prompted me to write this. Please review and let me know how it turned out, any sort of feedback is welcome which includes constructive criticism. 


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